Standing Out Shortly
by Dilasc
Summary: When it comes to being your average protagonist, Saxib the gnome turns up a bit short. Still, he must venture up and down the Sword Coast through a modded universe with faces unfamiliar to non-modders.
1. Jilted End

You, my friend, are about to enter a most modded Forgotten Realms, filled with kits, haxxy and modded, romance, and characters only a true mod fanatic would know of. Because of that, I get no credit for any of the mods that are used or represented here. Welcome to 'Standing Out Shortly!' Warning, you may find an extra gnomish cleric and many added kits along your travels through this story as well as... ooze. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I make disclaimer stating I own NONE of the characters. Ownership is to the makers of the series and the mod makers who love em. As a fan of them mods, I love em lots. I therefore take no claim to any characters, perhaps not even CHARNAME. All mods belong to their creators, though I highly recommend trying them out, Tutu/BGT NPC mods are awesome and interactive, especially with the BG1 NPC project mod addition and the NPC kitpack. Ooh, I'm getting way too excited!

**Intro: Jilted ****End**

Stormy clouds overtook the town of Baldur's Gate. Heavy rain was encroaching from the western sea of the Sword Coast and all of the town of Baldur's Gate would feel the trickling wetness. Of course, Talos, god of storms, would probably not be impressed, but it would still certainly leave streets and houses soaked for hours even after the rain passed.

It was amongst one of the towers that the soldier Jilros stood. The half elf was head to toe in plate, and beneath his metal helmet, his eyes were glancing about anxiously. He knew he had a destiny for great power, for great destiny, and great murder lying right in front of his face. The question was, when would destiny grant him his greatness, and when would he be ready?

Such questions may have needed to wait for eternity. The half elf of potential destiny heard heavy footsteps encroach all too slowly. Something about them made him grab for his sword, a lengthy slashing blade that wasn't too impressive but certainly could cut down rabble-rousers and goblins should they ever penetrate the great city.

Before long, he was approached too suddenly. The sight terrified the guardsman at first. The sight was a good towering seven feet or so in height, clad in the blackest steel that swirled about with unnatural mist that only left visible a pair of glowing eyes. Even scarier, his hand was holding the largest sword that Jilros had ever seen, yet it felt as easy to wield as a mere knife in his hand. He had wished he were closer to the ground, instead of being cooped up in the second to last floor of tower of a building known as the Iron Throne.

"Jilros," the man began in a voice with a baritone depth befitting of his visage, "it is time, brother!"

"Sarev…" he paused, quickly grabbing his shield and long sword and holding them ready, "I… I will not let you be the one."

The armored titan all but blinked his eyes as he effortlessly hefted up his giant sword. His swing was somewhat wild and even a bit slow, but surely even being slightly tapped by such might alone would injure the mightiest of dragons.

Jilros managed to sidestep the wild blow and lunged with his long sword, and connected against his assailant's armor with a mighty clang. Following the clang, Jilros felt a vibration flow up his hand as he gazed in awe.

The giant gripped the weapon with his free hand by the bladed end, and with little effort, crushed the blade as though it were a ball of dirt. "It's time for the prophecy to begin," were his only words.

With a swift punch, the guardsman's shield shattered as he used it to black the giant man's swing. With no options left, the half elf fled as fast as he could, though the only exit he saw led to the top of the tower. For now, it'd have had to do.

Quickly, he ran up the stairs and bolted the door shut behind him, panicking heavily all the while. Rain was now flowing free from the sky and a flash of thunder assailed his ears.

Before long, the iron gated door was shred into pieces as the plated powerhouse ripped it with his fist. "Ha!" he exclaimed with a sense of enjoyment. Jilros was running out of options, he could only think of one thing left to do.

"No, y-you can't!" The half elf was nearly on his knees pleading for his miserable existence to be spared.

"I will be the last…" the dangerous man stated, "and you will go first!"

Before long, Jilros was cornered, and it felt like a minecart smashed him in the face. From the titan's swift punch, his helmet was loosed as it rolled to the floor.

"There are others!" the half elf tried yet again, "I could help you. Please!" he begged, "PLEASE!"

It was all for naught, for in swift motion, the giant man's hand wrapped around his now revealed neck. Jilros' dark hair and slightly pointed ears were on edge as his life flashed before his eyes. Then, he could only hear and feel the crunch of his own bones as his life was swiftly snuffed out via his ribcage. Try as he might, his weakened hands could not remove the hands that were about thrice the size of his own.

Before long, Jilros was no longer breathing, and in a sigh, he drifted off to eternity. With a satisfied sense of thrill, the giant threw his 'brother' off the edge of the tower effortlessly. Yet, as his bleeding body fell, his skin began to fade away, evaporating and blowing away like dust in the wind. Even the blood, had it not fully dripped free from his form, turned to a cryptic dust. By the time he hit the stone pavement at the streets below, all that was left of Jilros was his blood stained armor and a sword chewed up by clenched fist marks.

The man above turned to walk away from the carnage he enjoyed, "The first has fallen..." his eyes gazed the dark midnight horizon. As strange as it was, he felt he could see it in the far horizon. In spite of the black night and heavy clouds, he knew where he needed to go. "Candlekeep…" he stated, the next, he presumed, would follow shortly. Yet, as he clanged down the stairs, a slight pang of ominous fear gripped him. With a shake of his head, he shook it off and headed down the stairs and off the slightly bloodstained rooftop.

The armored behemoth's words rang true, the first had faded away to dust and a path of death would soon flow like a free river. As he stared into the abyss, the giant warrior smiled behind the iron fortress that he called armor. He loved it!


	2. A Small Flame Sparks a Candle

**Chapter 1: A Small Flame Sparks a Candle  
**

Whether it was a rare occurrence or not, the sea along the Sword Coast thrashed about like the wild weapon its namesake had lain claim to. Perhaps Umberlee was in a mood befitting her title as 'the Bitch Queen,' as the waters thrashed violently along the cliffs, perhaps not. Oddly enough, this wild thrashing was localized to a small area along the high cliffs surrounding the walled citadel fortress known as Candlekeep. The scent of the seas flew high to the air, leaving the keep with the slight smell of fresh saltwater. Yet, the smell of salt would hardly compare to the strange events that would unfold later that day, and instead added a slight aura of foreboding doom.

Anyone who stepped foot within the walls of this citadel was one whom was brave, willing to part with a valuable book that he hopefully didn't mind losing several thousand coins for just to enter a land of books, books, and monks, not to mention lots of books.

Yet in spite of all those books (and monks,) one individual seemed most misplaced amongst the bookworms of his home for twenty years. Saxib was his name, and based on his rather average build and appearance, especially as he barely even encroached on a height of four feet. Of course, considering the fact that his specie was that of gnomes, Saxib actually wasn't all that short. By his side was his great sword, not too wonderfully made or maintained, the blade sufficed for the sparring matches he would have with the castle guards or his trainers.

At this moment, his blade was thrust down in the dirt, his eyes wandering a magical tome, his eyes wide and studying frantically amongst the magic he hoped he could grasp. After nearly twenty years, the gnome still wasn't allowed to own his own spell book. Strangest thing yet was that his twenty year age was fairly grown, especially for his species.

Saxib doubted the fact that just because he grew up surrounded and raised by humans didn't mean he had to age at their rate. Then again, whether it was his upbringing or something else, he doubted he was much like other gnomes out there, especially when his face lacked any facial hair, which he heard was common amongst gnomes his age... provided they were growing at nearly a human's rate. Gnomes, in spite of how Saxib heard that they were so driven by copious curiosity for knowledge, rarely visited the keep for some reason, and the few that did, well, she seemed more of a bookworm than anything.

Saxib glanced about, his eyes glancing upwards to the sky, its bright blue purity was only blighted by sparse clouds with no path to follow. There was little time to contemplate and ponder his heritage at this moment, for his adopted father, the great sage Gorion, relayed an urgent message to escape the confines of the almost impregnable fortress. With hesitance, he returned his eyes to his task at hand. Ahead of him, one of the soldier's at the keep, Fuller, had a quarterstaff in his hand. His form was imposing for a human, especially when considering the all metal plate armoring that his body was stuffed in. His face was concealed by an equally metallic helmet, which did little to reduce the factor of intimidation.

The gnome, his hand swiftly moving to his sword, wore not but his yellow tunic of simple fabric in comparison. Of course, being an aspiring wizard, specialized in the gnomish art of phantasm that almost all gnomes took too so easily, it was enough to keep him unarmored in its own way. The intelligent, yet small creature that he was, Saxib utilized this protective disposition with his magic and usually kept his distance.

This, of course, did not mean he dared to ignore his weapons training, and Fuller's stern voice broke his reminiscence swiftly enough. "Hey kid! You ready to practice?"

Saxib's mind snapped awake at the human's commanding voice, which helped testament his worth as a captain of the keep's guards. "Oh... yes sir!" he replied swiftly as his sword was held ready to both strike and parry.

Fuller sighed. "You gotta stay focused if you're gonna make it out there," the guard captain explained, "I know this's a lot on yer mind but you gotta be ready ta handle the world beyond this prison!"

Through the eye slits of his helmet, the gnome noticed the guard's eyes narrow in a most serious tone, "Prison?" he asked cautiously.

Fuller nodded, not caring at this point who heard "I'd have gone with you... as a bodyguard," the guard captain sighed, "This place rarely sees any action, until now so it'd seem. Gorion seems hellbent on not letting anyone know anything about this all though."

The gnome nodded. His mind was stirring, especially considering his recent events of yesterday. A thug of a man named Shank had snuck into a bunkhouse at the keep with the only intent in his mind being the death of the gnome who didn't expect it. The gnome was fortunate though, he struck swiftly with the long sword he had in his hand and managed to stab his heart before the man could swing his dagger. It seemed his half-elven attacker wasn't too keen or all that agile, much to the gnome's relief. It was a lucky shot on the short man's end of the stick however, and if he had to fight on the road, he wasn't certain how he'd hold up in the heat of battle yet again.

This was of minimal concern to the gnome, especially when the parchment that the half-breed had thrown him seemed much more dire, if not a bit question raising. After all, for a measly fifty gold coins, why would anyone dare try to buy their way in, or even sneak over the high walls that edge the cliffs for that matter, just to earn a mere fifty gold.

Regardless of the dilemma, the gnome told nobody of what had happened, other than his adopted father. He didn't even tell his adopted sister Imoen, whom he felt he could trust with anything. He loved them both to the point that having a human family didn't bother him too much. It was after all, better than being with nobody to love or be loved by.

With a slight snap of his head, his mind returned to reality, and his long sword was ready to strike, and with a sigh, he signaled himself ready. "Alright Fuller, let's go!"

At that, he slowly encroached upon the armored guardsman. His sword met his staff in a calm clash, and with a nod, they begun. Swiftly, Fuller took advantage of his weapon's build and thrust it forward as his feet stepped backwards to keep the gnome at bay. This worked well, for the gnome who decided his height advantage could be utilized to its fullest as he lunged low as fast as he could with his long sword. The large guardsman swiftly lost his balance and began to stumble.

While placing his staff towards the ground to catch his fall, he let out a gasp, and as he regained balance and composure, he spoke once more, "Saxib, you're quite an oddity. I wish you well out there."

The gnome nodded, "Thank you Fuller," the gnome replied as his eyes darted amongst the walled citidel, "I'll admit that I'll miss this place for more reasons than just you all... it'll be..."

"Dangerous?" the armored man attempted to finish.

The gnome nodded, "Yes, but if my father seems so frightfully set on escape, then I will follow him and we will go where we must..."

The guard smiled, "You should make ready then. Get your crossbow and go meet your father as soon as possible."

The gnome nodded as he left the training grounds, which weren't really training grounds, but more like a small patch of open land near where the barracks were maintained. As he grabbed his sword, his mind and body wandered, guiding his feet along as he went. His first stop was a nearby warehouse... gold was not something the midget man had in abundance. If the warehouse nearby had anything of value, he figured he might see if he could use it.

He rushed in, only to find the most ominous of cliche fates fall upon him: the door slammed shut. Unlike these situations, the gnome felt there was something more important to do than reopen, or even break the door down if need be. Instead, the sounds of footsteps brought him more to the defensive with his sword at the ready. "Who..."

He was caught up by the sounds of laughter. Saxib's infravision caught sight of a palm holding a weapon of some sort. The gnome could not see more due to the boxes in the way, but he knew he was not alone, and right now he wished he had his crossbow.

The assailant smiled as he saw the gnomish battle mage stand at the ready. This, Carbos figured, was his big chance to make it to the big time. With such a nice reward of fifty gold for the death of such a simple looking kill, the assassin gripped his short sword tightly and bided his time. Shank had failed, but Shank was not much of anything. He figured he'd approach the gnome cautiously. "Eh," he began as he revealed himself to his target, "You're Gorion's little whelp, Saxin, aren't ya?"

"Saxib," the gnome corrected him, as he stared at the hooded man. His leather armor might prove troublesome unless he tapped into a bit of magic, "what makes my life your business?"

"Name's Carbos," the man stated as he lunged swiftly with his pointed sword, only to strike the gnome across the arm. "I'll make it my business if'n I please!" he stated forcefully, his body beginning to fade from sight, "Just thought I'd have me a look at you for myself, before I puts a blade down your gullet! Someone seems to think you're trouble," as he spoke, his voice seemed to echo about the room, leaving the gnome few clues to the man's location, "so I'm is gonna use your head for a ticket out o' the gutter! I'm just a little street trash hood they say, but I'll show 'em!"

The gnome tried to focus on the noise of steps, but it was to no avail. No doubt this man was going to weaken him from afar with an arrow... the gnome had an idea. With a quick movement of his arms, the gnome was no longer just a gnome, he was two, but one of them wasn't quite real.

The real gnome figured he'd hide in a secret part of the warehouse he knew so well. It was so well hidden that only he and his sister Imoen knew the location. The fake gnome was on the alert, his eye wandering about. His arm gash spilling blood looking just as real as the actual crimson liquid. It left no puddles on the floor, but with such poor lighting, the human's eyes probably would not have seen it anyway.

Carbos had his weapon ready, a short bow ready to strike the injured gnome from a distance with his poisoned drenched arrows. All he needed was a moment of weakness... there! The gnome keeled slightly in distraction from his arm... this was all he needed for his arrow to go to work.

The shot was dead on, and the gnome faded away. Meanwhile, the real Carbos was baffled and now perfectly visible to the real gnome. By luck and convenience, he had made his perch upon a crate just above where the gnome was watching. With little needed effort, the gnome gave a shove and the crates began to shake. It was enough for the roguish human to lose his balance and fall to the wood floor below with a thud. This was all the time the gnome felt he needed to gain the upper hand. His sword glistened off what little light it could as it unsheathed with a steel swish. "If you answer me, you can live."

The fallen man breathed heavily as he gripped his sword, beads of sweat formed all about his body as he tensed the grip on his weapon. A swift kick to sword arm ended sent the man tinge of numbness. "Drop dead ya bastard!"

The gnome sighed. He could do the right thing and apprehend him much like he wanted to do, but in the back of his mind, something pulled at his arms and tightened the grip on his sword. Before he could consider the lawful course of action, his sword cut its way through Carbos' neck. Being a gnome, his sword went about halfway through before he couldn't get any further. Still, the man's eyes began to fade, and his body went limp. It was enough, so it'd have seemed, to bring about the assailant's demise.

With this intrusion out of the way, the rest of the warehouse search proved unrewarding. Anything that may have been of value was sealed in well locked cases, leaving the only thing the gnome could have needed to be nothing but a healing potio.

The gnome smiled weakly as he went for the door. The potion, its vial crisp and pure with a nice bright blue, seemed a bit too valuable to waste on a mere flesh wound with few dangers in sight and if anything, there were bound to be many clerics, or monks of Oghma, god of knowledge about to give him some healing that costs much less than any potion would. As he returned to the door, he caught sight of one of the many disciplined monks that made these halls their home.

"Saxib!" the monk called as the gnome struggled to open the door, his yellow robes made his running difficult, but in the end he had reached the trembling gnome, "I heard shouting and by Oghma, your arm! Are you alright?"

Saxib's head swirled slightly as he saw multiples of the monk's head swirl about in his vision, "I... I'm fine, but there was... was a man with a sword! He tried to ki..." The gnome stumbled on his words, causing the monk to grab his arm and hum silently to himself, "he wanted to kill me!"

The robed elder nodded in understanding, "You are not in any trouble, Saxib," the monk said calmly, "there is no need to reply so pleadingly." As he finished his words, a warm blue flash of light flowed into the young gnome's arm and washed him clean with light and the wound on his arm swiftly began to close, leaving only the dry blood that had flown free from the wound to remain on his arm.

"What's happening to this place, Karan?!" the gnome replied with a demanding sense of alarm, his hand still gripping his sword as he spoke.

"It's not the place, it's you they're after!" the elderly human replied crestfallenly, "Why don't you rest for a bit, Saxib, and I'll let Gorion know you'll be a little late."

The gnome yawned as he nodded, "Alright, I am getting tired," to which he stumbled slightly, perhaps feeling a bit of poison coursing his veins. He didn't know what it was, but it felt more like an urge to grab his sword or ready his Burning Hands spell and kill something, anything from a mere fly to a blue dragon or even a wooden barrel. Not that he'd ever get out into the world and ever slay any of the ancient beasts.

The inn was close upon him. Karan suggested he rest there since he could get himself a crossbow and some bolts if he was to be attacked by any more foes. Saxib nodded. He found crossbows to be very intriguing weapons. Not that he wouldn't mind going to his room in the library instead: reading was very soothing especially to the wizard within him.

The path best to take to the library led him through the garden of the inner sanctum of the keep. Beautiful flowers and fountains made this place seem peaceful, until of course he heard the voice of the rainbow of chanters. He despised the chanters, not because of who they were or the words they said, but because when they spoke the words of Allaundo, a great prophet. One particular prophecy tended to cause him to grit his teeth, and because great Lady Luck was smiling wickedly from the Nine Hells that day, the prophecy was just the one to be heard.

"The Lord of Murder shall perish,

but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny,

chaos shall be sown in their passage,

so sayeth the wise Alaundo!"

The words sung weren't too wonderful. It was certain that this man was no bard, nor should he ever attempt to be, which made Saxib feel even worse. He felt a strange lurching in his stomach as he trudged onwards. He could barely see where he was going.

Finch smiled as her quill worked frantically to write and calculate. It was beyond any librarian's greatest dream of glory to enter the walls of Candlekeep, but for Finch Bloomwhiffler, a devout follow of the god Deneir, a deity of knowledge much like Oghma, it was a common enough occurrence to visit this hall. Even with her erudition and constant desire to write, the cleric felt that sitting around until she read every parchment or book would end with her willing death. She was far too young to be cooped away, and she looked it too, for her eyes held a gleam of dreams and desire behind her glasses to take the reigns of adventure and thrust into it with her pen and write it all down, while bringing her companions back up with her healing magic.

Someday, the gnomish lady knew she would see the world, but until then, she was here in Candlekeep, at least until the end of the day. "Hmm..." she began as she put her hand to her chin. She wasn't malnourished, in a sense, but brain food simply tends to lack any calories whatsoever. "Let's see, the lord of murder shall perish!" she began, writing down her words as she spoke, standing up as she decided to depart from this sight with the words still strong on her mind.

"But in his doom..." Finch paused with uncertainty as she recalled the words, "was it doom or death?" Not that she had time to ponder ancient and cryptic predictions from the past, especially as she collided head on with Saxib.

Much to the luck of the war mage, his sword did not cut through him on his way to the grass below. "Ow..." was all ghe managed amongst his other pain.

"Oh!" the lady gnome gasped. She had only been slightly set aback and managed to hold her footing, "I'm sorry, I... wasn't watching where I was going."

As the swordsman caught gripped her hand, he managed to look up. "Finch?!" he asked slightly taken aback, "back here again I see?" He smiled as he glanced up and down the gnomish lass. Gnomes, as far as Saxib knew, must have been very rare in this area. Besides himself, Finch was the only gnome he knew.

"Yup," was her simple reply as she stood there antsy as all hells combined, "how are you, Saxib?" she asked, her diction and enunciation of each word as careful as any studious reader's could be.

"I'm well," the injured male replied, though the girl could see through that ruse.

"Don't lie to me!" the Deneirian priest snapped with concern, "it's bad enough you're practically the only gnome I even know, but to see a friend lie just so I don't worry!" she sighed, "Oh, hold on a second!"

"I don't really..." Saxib began, only to be cut off by gnomish lady beginning to chant some strange religious prayer. Before the injured man could protest, a bright light washed over him and though his fatigue did not dissipate, his wound began to close as a feeling of relaxation and tingling warmth all in one enveloped his entire body. "Whoa!" was all he managed after that as he shook his head in shock, "I'm feeling much better... and somehow also feel like hiding away with a good book if I can find one."

"Glad to have helped Saxib," Finch beamed, feeling proud of how she managed to save a life as she spoke with the utmost sense of thrill. "Deneir always likes to impart the need for knowledge."

The gnome nodded somewhat detracted from the situation, "Yes... I'm going to go get that rest now. Didn't you need to do something?"

Saxib nodded as Finch scampered off as swiftly as her tiny feet could bring her, 'There she goes. I wonder if I'll ever see her again... or anyone.' He paused, his deep thoughts drowning out the agitating sounds of prophetic rambling. 'They may all be dead...' he thought, not knowing why, even more shocking was the deep dark voice that pierced his mind as it finished the thought, 'GOOD!'


End file.
